Symphonic
by Her Name Is Erika
Summary: Zoey sees the bloody arm, the bushy hair, the Converse shoes with the white shoelaces and the green eyes that she will never forget. ChaseZoey. Slight JamesZoey.


**A/N: Here's the Choey oneshot I've been meaning to get down, and typed. For background music I suggest, Symphonic by Emm Gryner.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not tight with Dan Schneider…even though he's on Twitter. But no, Zoey 101 isn't mine.**

* * *

"I love you, Zoey."  
"There – now, was that so hard to say to my face?"

-Chase & Zoey, Trading Places

* * *

She cries a lot, lately. She cries with clear tears, running the apple of her cheeks.

Like magic, the salty, pained tears (_regretconfusionfear_) disappear before her roommates can ask.

The gold necklace doesn't stop haunting her with that inscription, even though it's locked in one of her drawers, safe and away. James' expectant gaze is still burned into her mind. And then there's the guilt because Zoey return his declaration of love for her and be a horrible, filthy liar.

But in the morning, Zoey takes a long look at the (soft, satin green) prom dress made with her own manicured hands and slides the closet closed with a noise that echoes.

She sees James, and tries. Zoey plants a morning kiss on him like she means it.

Suddenly, Zoey Brooks feels like the lowest of the low.

.

.

.

It's the same re-occurring dream over and over (like a broken vinyl record).

There's no bungee cord, no pillow, or no sturdy bridge so Zoey doesn't want to hit rock bottom, or admit it. The dirt ledge is sharp against the soft, manicured pads of her feet. And then she slips and falls, her scream being lodged in her throat (oh, but she is screaming, _remember?_)

A vice-like grip puts a halt to her inevitable and bottomless descent.

A familiar, gentle laugh reaches her ears with that endearingly crooked smile.

"Hey, I thought I was the accident-prone one, Zoe."

Chase really does have **beautiful** green eyes.

And then Zoey wakes up feeling more peaceful (_conflictedguilty_) than ever.

.

.

.

Here's something you should know: Zoey knew everyone thought she forgot about Chase while her boyfriend was the hottest guy ("Oh my God, Zoey's so lucky that _have_ that piece of eye-candy!") on campus. Zoey really liked James – just enough to feed him grapes.

The _purple_ ones.

.

.

.

Zoey suddenly wishes that she isn't front and center in geography, being the overly studious person that she is. Resting a hand on her cheek, she's drifting and floating away into the depths of her speeding (slowdownslowdown) conscious. For once, she's silently pleading for time to slow just a minute. Just one precious minute.

"The River Thames is the second longest river in the United Kingdom…"

The River Thames makes Zoey think of England.

" – has a length of 215 miles, and is usually quoted source is at the Thames Head."

"Ms. Brooks."

England makes her think of long distance webcam dates ("I love you Zoey."), cold sushi and bushy hair that has some product in it, a collection of Union Jack shirts with plain, ordinary black-and-white Converse shoes (tripping over the white shoe laces _every_ year).

(What?)

"Zoey," comes Ms. Reynolds stern, and slightly concerned tone. The blonde blinks, before looking into her geography teacher's concerned but stern eyes. "Ms. Brooks, if you want that nice grade to stay that way to the end of the semester during prom weekend, you'd better pay attention. Understand?"

Flushing with embarrassment, her glossed lips curve into a reassuring smile, "Yes. Crystal clear."

"Okay, class," Ms. Reynolds says, shoes travelling with a methodic click-clack to the front of the class. "Read up on the Thames River, and the counties that runs through it, and I will be back. There's something I have to tend into the staff room. Your homework is the chapter review at the end of the chapter so get a head-start on that and I will be back shortly."

James doesn't have to say anything at all, and she can feel his fingers interlocking with her. It's reality shaking her, stirred her, making her feel queasy. He's her boyfriend and she hates that Zoey can't really hate James because he's such a good guy. She can't hate him.

"Zoey," James says, softly, and locks gazes with hers. "What's with you lately? I took a leap and told how I felt even though things were already weird between us, and now you're avoiding me like the plague. What's wrong? Did I do or something wrong?"

"Nothing, I – " she pauses, and sighs. "It's not about you, or the necklace or our relationship. I've just been really out of it. I'm sorry. And no, you didn't do anything wrong," Zoey smiles that (broken, cracked) smile and kisses his cheek lightly.

"I'm glad. So, you want to grab a mocha javaccino with me later?"

Ms. Reynolds comes back, and the bell rings.

"Uhm, I have my English paper to finish typing tonight, so I'll call you later."

Another kiss goes on his cheek and Zoey walks away briskly, before walking with purpose.

.

.

.

James was very confused because he knew his girlfriend was very conscientious.

He also knew two other things that made him think maybe things weren't as they seemed:

A) Zoey finished her paper last week, completely edited with properly done title-page.

B) And that paper was handed in the day after. So, he probably did have the plague or some boyfriend-avoidance disease (and didn't know it)

.

.

.

The pink duvet of her single bed is soft, contouring to her body as she quietly (ticktockticktock) reflects. Bringing her gaze to the balloon-lined ceiling, she's throwing darts at them one by one until there's nothing left to keep her mind occupied. There's roughly one day and a half before the dresses, before the flowery corsages, and the flashes of digital cameras with pictures only to be uploaded and tagged onto FaceSpace. She sighs quietly to nothing at all after putting her Pear Phone away (attempt number seven at let's-call-Chase-across-the-pond has failed).

The gold necklace is beautiful, the golden locket with _those_ words deeply etched on the back. It eats at her stomach, and makes her sad to an extent.

Zoey feels the golden chain falls between her manicured fingers.

And at the very instant, James walks in, the words, "Wanna break up?" falling from his lips.

She can't justify anything. Zoey can't defend this.

"Why would I want to break up with you?" she hears herself say.

(Oh, Zoey. You saw this coming. You _knew_ all along – ChaseChaseChase)

.

.

.

It's prom night, as Lola and Quinn throw a blue dress that lands across her torso when she collapses on her bed backwards. (Oh, and pretty stilettos. Zoey almost – keyword almost – wishes for amnesia.)

Lola is in a pretty purple dress with a matching flower in her brunette hair, and Quinn is a lovely blue dress that accentuates her figure. Zoey is too busy to notice this, and if they don't mind, she'd like to spend her prom night moping around, and neglecting the green dress that hangs in dark solitude at the back of the closet.

"I'm not going," Zoey announces. "I'm not going to prom by myself, and I'm not motivated to go period, so whatever."

Her roommates send each other concerned looks, before they sigh and leave.

"I still say your dress is a little too sexy for Dustin," Lola giggles.

"Lola, this isn't necessary. I've been going through some unpleasantness recently, so leave it alone."

(And then it hits Zoey like a sucker punch – it's the end of the semester.)

.

.

.

Zoey learned four new things that night as she walked the campus of PCA:

A) She reminded herself of how photogenic and callous Jeremiah was. Zoey wasn't going to steal Martha's date.

B) Breaking up with James was a even blend of relief and guilt.

C) Her heart stopped, and her arm dropped when the words, "Turn around" dancing in her ears.

D) And her heart restarted with a dance of its own when she saw him fall in that endearingly clumsy way again. (Oh, nostalgia)

.

.

.

Zoey sees the bloody arm ("That's what happens when I get wounded"), the bushy hair, the Converse shoes with the white shoelace and the green eyes that she will never forget.

She presses her glossed lips to his, and realizes she never forgets about Chase at all.

(While he kisses her back, Zoey wants to bandage her boyfriend's arm, and share a bunch of **green** grapes with her at prom.)

* * *

**A/N: Okay, my Choey kick has come back. Sorry I've been MIA. I just needed to sort things out and stuff. This is oneshot number 89. I'm one away from 90, and eleven away form 100! Wooo! I can't remember Chasing Zoey off the top of my head, so I paraphrased and added my own twist to it. To see the progress on my other stuff, look at my profile, so I don't get any PMs and stuff questioning it. My deadlines may or may not be met, but bear with me. I'm in university after all, and that comes first always. So, while I love Chola, I just feel like this section needs some good old fashioned Choey, and just a new story in general. It's kinda dead. And I just want to say that I love the new changes to the site by adding a whole crossover section. There's a lot of clutter in the Zoey 101 section so I'm glad that can be sorted. Anyway, I just wanted to finish this before bed. Forgive any errors you might find. I'm tired. **

**Review honestly. Like it? Think it absolutely sucks? Tell me. I can handle it. **

**-Erika**


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